


Her Power

by nestasbucket



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 19:54:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13643328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nestasbucket/pseuds/nestasbucket
Summary: After the war with Hybern ends, Nesta discovers her hidden power.





	Her Power

The first time was accidental. Or perhaps, more accurately, instinctual.

A month had passed since they’d closed the book on the war, and they were firmly entrenched in the growing pains of forming a new Prythian. The fragile egos of the high lords still dictated the tone of negotiations, but a little less with each concession, each decision. Nesta’s place in the meetings as an emissary gradually became accepted and respected.

What she felt in the meetings was a focus, a narrowing of vision and purpose that kept her hidden truth from cracking through the surface. She didn’t have a name for it, an explanation, nor any real understanding of it, but she could feel it. The cauldron was gone, and whatever had tied her to it had evolved into something else.

The others thought her power was gone, or severely dimmed. Amren’s own transformation no longer afforded her the sight, that deeper understanding she held as a made being. She would certainly have known otherwise. But Nesta could feel it herself. It hummed like a static charge, vibrating inside her imperceptibly and pulsing through her, memorizing her veins like a map. Her power lived. And it waited.

Cassian was always there, always in her space. Or that was how it seemed to her. Yet his eyes passed over her like she was furniture. She did not speak to him and looked only at his hands; watching them curl into themselves when he was worried, watching them pull at threads as he worked at making everyone laugh, watching them flatten against his thighs, his fingertips kneading his legs in some kind of rhythm only he heard. But they never stopped. For all his swagger, his hands were tributaries of nervous energy.

On the day she used her power, she had returned home to an empty townhouse. Rhys and Feyre remained at the Dawn Court, while Azriel met with his network of spies. Mor and Cassian were somewhere drawing up plans for the new female Illyrian squads, and Elain had gone with Lucien to the opening of a new conservatory. Nesta had returned from the Dawn Court early with no real excuse other than having reached her limit of interaction for the week.

The sun was blindingly bright, refracting through the beveled edges of the window panes to leave rainbows shimmering on the walls of her bedroom. As a child, her most cherished gift was a prism she received for her 7th birthday. She carried it surreptitiously in a pocket inside her cloak, so she could create rainbows on walkways wherever she went. Until the day it fell from her pocket when she was taking equestrian lessons and it was lost forever to her.

She pushed the window of her bedroom open, admitting a citrus breeze that billowed the curtains and blew away the staleness of the room. Nesta considered the possibilities and wavered between bath and books. The wind kicked up and the curtains blew straight up, one snagging on the edge of the bedside table.

That was the first detail she would remember. The next was that her heartrate doubled, and goosebumps rose on her flesh. Were she a wild animal, her hackles would be raised, ready to face her predator. The intruder had no wings, but he arrived in a flurry of destruction through the open window, ripping the curtain from the rod as he steadied himself upon entering. He allowed himself one second to take in his surroundings and then pounced, producing a great snarl, swiping the knives in his hands in a murderous frenzy as Nesta leapt back. _How could he have gotten through the protective ward?_ Time did not slow. She was fairly certain that she did not have that power. But she can recall every movement he made, every droplet of spittle that sprayed from his lips, every wild movement of his darkened irises.

As he lunged for her, aiming to cut her to ribbons, she took an enormous breath, held it, and watched him drop to the ground like a ragdoll. He did not shake or struggle. His breath did not slow, but merely ceased to be. His life left him in an instant.

Nesta breathed out, a great shuddering exhale that pulled her shoulders down. She did not bother inspecting him, did not take another step in his direction, because she already knew he was dead.  He was dead because she had stepped into the plane of his existence and snuffed him out. She did not stop his heart or quiet his mind or cease the work of his lungs. His body was no more because _he_ was no more.

Minutes passed as she stared at his limp, lifeless form.

“What happened?”

Cassian’s words were quiet, almost whispered, as if he was intruding, a curious observer to a crime scene. The second the male came through the window, Cassian felt her fear as he sat at a table with Mor, miles away. He leapt from his seat, knocking the chair backwards and nearly taking out Mor when his wings snapped out. She had only gotten so far as “Wha-” when he ran outside and shot into the sky. The adrenaline that propelled him to the townhouse was tied inexorably to Nesta’s own. The second her defenses were raised, Cassian had no thought, but “go”. He stumbled upon the townhouse steps, making little effort to slow for a safe landing. He’d felt it, mid-flight, the moment she used her power. It stopped his wings, stopped every muscle in his body. From somewhere in his chest, ice cold shot through him. It was over in a second and he felt a calm settle over him. Over her.

Despite the fear and the rush, he’d not expected to see a body in her room.

Nesta turned her head to him, with a curious look. “Cassian?”

“You killed him.”

“He’s dead.”

Cassian stepped tentatively into the room, aware of his intrusion in her private space. “How?”

She shook her head, not looking at him.

“You have no weapon. How did you kill him so quickly?”

She stepped around Cassian and walked out into the hallway, needing to be away from the body. “He attacked me and I…”

Cassian stepped closer and raised his hand as if to take hers but dropped it back at his side. “It’s okay.”

“I know. I just...I don’t know how to describe it without it sounding…”

He laughed lightly. “I’ve seen all kinds of - “

“- I saw him. Not his body, but his...life force. His essence. And I made it disappear.”

Confusion knit his brows together and he opened his mouth to speak but found no words.

“Don’t tell anyone. Please. I don’t want anyone else to look at me the way you’re looking at me now.”

“Nes.”

“Like I’m one of those death gods.”

He stepped closer, shadowing her stoic frame. “You are not like the death gods. They crave death, Nesta. Feed off of it. Is that how you feel?”

Her face now mirrored his with confusion and sadness falling over her features. “No,” she whispered.

He let a small smile form and took her hand in his. “Can you see everyone’s life force? Can you see mine?”

She shook her head in fierce denial.

“Find me, Nes. Find me.”

Nesta’s eyes fluttered shut and she tightened her grip on his fingers. A darkness descended, and she felt herself walking over a rough path, littered with stones and roots rising from the ground to trip her up. It was nothing like the other male. The other was just...there. In the open, with nothing around. Cassian was somewhere else, tied to the natural world. There was nothing but dark forest before her - no sign of him...of his essence. The trail ascended to a clearing, where the snow-covered pines thinned out and let in light from the moon. A smattering of tents lay ahead, but she felt a tug pulling her a different direction.

 _Is this a trap? Is there some other creature here enticing me away?_ She swallowed the rising fear and turned off the trail. Darkness fell over her once again as the tree cover grew thick and the light layer of snow on the ground absorbed the sounds of the forest’s creatures. A tendril of smoke floated to her, drawing her to its source. As her eyes adjusted to the light, a small gasp escaped her. There he was. A small boy, huddled over a tiny fire, rubbing his muddy hands together. He rocked gently back and forth on his haunches, his entire body shivering against the growing chill.

She felt his fear in the air, his loneliness and anger. He would survive out of pure spite, conquer nature and overcome the greatest odds, but here, at his essence, he was a frightened, freezing boy. Every aspect of his existence would be framed by this scene, by the need to protect himself, rely only on himself, expect no help, no love, no acceptance from anyone.

Nesta’s eyes filled with tears and she wept for him, for the grown male who smiled so easily after coming from this. She cried for the walls he’d built to protect himself from ever feeling like he needed another. Every sarcastic barb a place of shelter. Every moment of feigned indifference a scrap of food to ferret away. Every piece of Cassian flowed from this point.

He met her eyes with a look of naked vulnerability, like he might break into pieces if the wind found him. She eased her way over to him, keeping her eyes locked with his and sitting next to him on the cold, wet ground, she gathered him into her arms and wrapped her limbs around him. He buried his face into her neck and shook while she willed her heat into him. She rocked him gently and stared into the flames until his body went slack with sleep.

Nesta lowered him onto a bed of leaves and left her cloak over him. Before she left, she placed a kiss to his forehead and whispered against his skin. “I found you.”

Orange light filled the sky and Nesta reached her arms out to touch the light, to warm her frozen fingers and a sudden crack split the sky open.

Her room. She was in her bed. The afternoon sun was glinting off the edge of the mirror opposite her, blinding her with the orange glow of impending twilight. She rolled to her side and saw what had caused the sky to split open. Her attempts to warm her hands knocked over the clock on the bedside table. She sat up and swung her feet over the edge of the bed and realized that while the body was no longer sullying her floor, Cassian was draped across the chaise lounge in the corner of the room, a strange expression on his face.

“I disposed of our friend. Heavier than he looked.” He strode across the room and sat next to her. Nesta braced herself as his weight threatened to pull her into him as the mattress dipped. “Did it work? Did you see anything?”

She wasn’t sure how to answer him, still feeling disoriented from waking as she did. “What happened to me?”

“You passed out just a few seconds after you closed your eyes. I thought maybe it was shock from the earlier incident, but you didn’t wake, and you seemed to be otherwise fine, so I brought you in here thinking maybe you were just exhausted.”

Nesta took a steadying breath. “Thank you.” This is the part where she gets up and walks away from him. Where she doesn’t look back to see what his face looks like. Where she ignores his question and tilts her head toward the door to indicate it is time for him to leave. But the image of the little boy, the _feel_ of him in her arms, comes to her unbidden and halts her movement. She found him.

She opens her mouth to speak and he clears his throat, claiming the moment. “You found me.”

“Yes.”

“Was it… What you saw...was it awful?”

There were his hands, worrying at the seam of his pants, smoothing creases that weren’t there. Nesta lifted her hand and placed it on his, stilling him. “No. Not awful. It was...beautiful.”

Cassian turned his hand, palm-up, and lined his fingers up with her. His calloused hands dwarfed hers and she pressed the pads of her fingers against each of his.

They drifted near each other for weeks afterward, nearly brushing arms as they passed in the halls, looks held across the dinner table, a cautious dance. Cassian found her in the library, long after she should have gone to bed. He sat next to her, his wings blocking the lamplight behind her, casting shadows over the floor before them. “I have always had nightmares. Most nights. For as long as I can remember. I hate sleeping.

Nesta turned to him, a look of surprise on her face. “You do? I didn’t know.”

“I haven’t had one since that day.”

She heard his breath change, the hitch, the shudder, and when he turned to her, tears spilled down his cheeks.

“What did you do, Nesta? How did you make them stop?”

Her face crumbled, and she choked on a sob. She hadn’t known. Hadn’t imagined that what she’d done would change anything. “I found you. And I held you until you fell asleep.”

Cassian pulled Nesta to him, just as she had done for him, and wrapped his arms around her, cradling her against him. And with a gentle nudge, lifted her chin and brought his lips to hers. They stayed together, unmoving, breathing into each other, tracing the tears down their cheeks.

She had found him and in doing so, found that her power was far greater than bringing death swiftly. The phantom pain, the itching scars, the lingering aches of ancient wounds could be eased. With her power, she could see, and she could heal.


End file.
